


Ophelia Enchanted

by lyraonyx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Art, Crossdressing, Fairy Tale Elements, Feminine Severus, Fluff, Gender Non-Conforming Character, M/M, Romance, Short & Sweet, Supportive Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 12:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18315395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyraonyx/pseuds/lyraonyx
Summary: Short and sweet oneshot, Cinderella style.Severus has a secret. At the first Yule Ball after the war, he decides he wants to appear as someone... different. He glamours himself into the shape and features of a beautiful woman, but when the glamours are off, will Harry still want him as he is?(The second chapter is for a painting.)





	1. Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dramatical_Yaoi for beta reading this!

#  ** Ophelia Enchanted **

Severus Snape stood in front of his armoire, staring at the endless supply of black, white, and grey—always the same—and ached to do something… _different_. The Yule Ball—reinstated to bring some life back to Hogwarts after the war—would begin in a few hours, and he couldn’t stand the thought of spending the night hiding in shadows and rustling naughty students out of bushes and alcoves.

Gods help him, he was so bloody tired of being reviled. Harry’s testimony during his trial had restored Severus’ reputation and cleared his name, but the world still didn’t like him. They looked at him with revulsion and disgust. Even the ones who didn’t hate him looked past him when choosing a date. He was forever ugly and overlooked. Always passed over for someone beautiful, someone happy.

He clenched his fist and moved away. Just this once, he wanted to be _beautiful_. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be something more than the miserable wretch clinging to the shadows and darkness. He wanted to be more than the lonely man with his heart carefully hidden behind impenetrable Occlumency wards and a sword-sharp glare for anyone who came too close. Just this once, he wanted to be _wanted_.

And that meant becoming someone new.

With a shaky sigh, he moved into the loo and stared in the mirror. Too ugly, too mean, too sharp. All lanky hair and nose and harsh angles. No. This face would never do. 

“What’s got your pants in a twist?”

Severus scowled the mirror into silence and considered his options. He could, perhaps, use polyjuice, but besides the fact that many knew how to recognise it and would notice if he drank from a secreted flask every hour, he hadn’t any hairs from beautiful people on hand. He had no desire to steal someone else’s identity regardless—he wanted to be his _own_ person. To carve a new identity for himself—perhaps, even one he might wear again one day, when he needed to feel wanted again.

His spying glamour. He had developed it himself eons ago—no one would know the spell, and it didn’t rely on the appearance of existing people. Instead, it altered Severus’ features without changing them entirely. He would still be _himself_ , just a different version. A version worthy of admiration and desire.

And maybe, just maybe, a version that would draw Harry’s notice. Though, if it did, Harry might see through it. The glamour wasn’t perfect. Anyone who _cared_ about Severus as he was would have too much of a bond with him not to recognise him, glamour or no.

Severus found himself hoping Harry recognised him. And that he would understand Severus’ need to… _change_ himself if he did.

His course decided, Severus pulled out his wand and set to work.

Some hours later, Severus swept into the Great Hall, head held high and posture erect. Merlin, even if no one noticed him, he felt like a queen. His dress complimented his altered body perfectly, and with his hair lengthened and swept into a silky updo and his face made up in all of Severus’ best cosmetics— _secreted away, hidden, never to be seen—_ he _felt_ beautiful. And in the end, he wanted nothing more.

He loved the way his stockings felt against his shaved legs, the weight of his long tresses, the bounce of his breasts and the sway of his feminine hips, both encased in a slinky black gown.  Let the crowd ignore him if they wished. Whether or not they cared, for once in his life, he knew he was beautiful, and that was enough.

But the crowd didn’t ignore him. All eyes turned to him as he stepped into the room, a shy smile on his face. Shock and wonder filled their eyes, attraction, desire, and Severus _thrilled_ to see it, to know it was for _him_ , even if they didn’t. With an enigmatic smile, he moved to the head table and greeted Minerva. She, at least, would have to know the truth.

But Minerva called him out before he even had the chance to open his mouth.

“Dear gods, _Severus_?”

Thank Merlin she had the good sense to whisper it.

The fact that she had seen through his glamours immediately warmed his heart. Minerva cared about him so much, she could not be fooled by a simple shadow over Severus’ features. It was… good to know he was so loved, at least by one person in the world.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “I… perhaps it is unexpected, but this once, I wished to be… someone else.”

She shook herself out of her shock and gave him a sympathetic smile. “If that is what you need to do to be happy, then by all means, do it.” Her smile turned into a stern look. “But if you decide to begin a romantic relationship in this guise, whether here or elsewhere, do your partner the favour of telling them the truth before they become involved.”

Severus gave a bitter laugh. “No one would stay interested once they knew. But that is neither here nor there. I have no intentions of starting a romantic relationship, whether in this guise or any other.” _Unless Harry wanted him._ “I simply wished to… be _free_ , for this one evening.”

Her gaze turned misty and nostalgic. “I seem to recall that Lily dressed you in makeup and tied back your hair a few times.”

Severus winced and looked away. He remembered too—and the nightmare afterwards that had caused him to shove his cosmetics in a locked cupboard, only to be looked at in the dark of night, kept fresh and well-stocked, but never _used_ , not since the day he had lost everything.

She patted his shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “Forgive me, Severus. I only meant to say that if this is who you are, who you’ve always been, then I, for one, will support you.”

Severus’ breath caught and his eyelids burned. He blinked hard to keep from ruining his face.

“Minerva….”

She squeezed his hand. “You’re lovely, I hope you know.”

A warm flush heated Severus’ cheeks. “I… I had hoped….”

“Well, you succeeded. I can still see… _you_ in your features, but they’re softer like this. Though I rather like your usual appearance too, I can see why you would want to change every once in a way. What should I call you?”

Severus reeled, overwhelmed at the knowledge that at least one person found his true self worthy. “I… oh. Call me… Ophelia Prince.”

“Ah, a lovely name. And it suits you too.” She straightened and assumed her usual stern expression. “Well then, Ophelia, I assume you would like me to open the proceedings tonight?”

“Please. I would like to remain… anonymous, just this once.”

Minerva patted his shoulder. “Go enjoy yourself, Ophelia. You’ve earned it. I’ll handle any questions and keep your identity safe.”

Severus squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, go on. I was waiting for you, but now you’re here, I’ve got to open the dance floor.” She grinned. “I expect to see you on it at least once.”

Severus gave her a shy smile. “I hope I may enjoy the experience too.”

With another pat to her shoulder, Minerva went to the band’s dais, leaving Severus a little dazed with her acceptance.

“She saw me,” he whispered to himself. “She saw me, and she did not hate me for it. Merlin.” With a deep, shaky breath, he went to sample the punch and wondered if anyone else would see through his glamours tonight. Despite the unlikelihood, he found himself hoping someone did. Someone with messy hair and glasses and a carefree smile that never failed to make Severus feel at ease.

Couldn’t hurt to dream, could it?

Professor Gideon Fallows, the new defence professor du jour, greeted Severus with a grin as he poured himself a cup of punch.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, his voice low and flirtatious. Not that Severus had any intention of indulging him. “I’m Gideon, the defence professor. And you are?”

Severus watched the man’s chest puff out with pride at the mention of his career and nearly snorted into his cup. ‘ _Gideon_ ’ couldn’t teach for the life of him. He knew his defence, having served as an auror for several years, but passing it onto impressionable young minds was beyond him. Minerva was already looking for a replacement.

“A pleasure,” said Severus in a neutral tone. “I am Ophelia.”

“Ah, what a lovely name.” Fallows began to lay on the charm, and Severus basked in the secret knowledge that if the man had any idea who he was _really_ flirting with, he might just curl up in shame and die. The thought entertained him immensely even as it hurt.

A part of him wondered, would Harry be similarly inclined?

With a quiet sigh, he tuned out the professor’s longwinded rant on his exploits as an auror and searched the crowd. Harry’s face was nowhere to be seen.

A twinge of worry panged Severus’ heart. He knew from his chats with Harry prior to the Yule Ball, Harry had planned to attend. Where was he?

 

* * *

 

Harry ducked behind an alcove and warded himself sight and sound from the crowd of giggling younger years trailing him. All _girls_ , of course.

“Where did he go? I know I saw him….”

“He’s so _handsome_ ,” one squealed, and Harry had to fight the urge to snort.

“And _heroic_ ,” another said with a lovelorn sigh.

Harry shook his head in disgust. No matter how he tried to pass the credit for winning the war where it belonged—onto Severus, to McGonagall, to everyone who had fought beside him and made his solitary mission possible—the wizarding world, and especially his peers, would hear none of it. He was the _Chosen One_ , and so he deserved all the praise, according to them.

Harry hated it. Gods, he couldn’t even go to the bloody loo without an entourage, both of vapid, giggling, blushing idiots and a wall of his friends—to keep the idiots away, of course. Once he graduated, he had plans to disappear into the Muggle world and ward his house to the dickens. At least there, he might find some much-needed peace.

Of course, he might also simply find a partner. Surely that would discourage some of the idiots trailing him everywhere. So he hoped, anyway. Once he found someone, Harry planned to let the bloody wizarding world know he was off the market with a vengeance.

Now, if only he could find someone who cared about him as just Harry, and not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and hero extraordinaire, he’d be set.

An image of Severus’ smiling face flickered through his mind. Warmth and hope built in Harry’s heart and wouldn’t be pushed away. Since the end of the war, Harry had wanted to know more about the enigmatic man who had saved him over and over again from the shadows, and so, he had stayed by his side ever since. Well, at least as much as he could do in his final year of schooling and with Severus still acting as headmaster.

He was a good headmaster too, now that the masks were off and the war behind them. The moment he had recovered from his wounds acquired in the shack, Severus had given the students and staff a formal apology for his behaviour over the years and explained everything. That he had been a spy for the Light, and how hard he had tried to save them all.

 

> _“I have tried, with all I have in me, to spare you pain these past few years, as much as I could. But with Riddle in charge of the school and the Ministry, it was all I could do to keep you alive. For all the pain, for all the grief and trauma and nightmares you have suffered under my leadership and during my tenure as a professor at this school, I am deeply sorry.”_
> 
> _The sight of tears streaking his face and the way he trembled as he spoke stunned the students and staff into numb silence._
> 
> _Harry moved first, racing to the man’s side and taking him into a rough hug._
> 
> _“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered in the headmaster’s ear. “Even if they don’t accept you, I do, and I know you meant every word. It’s all right. You’re all right now.”_
> 
> _Severus gave a shuddering gasp that, in any other man, might have been a sob. He buried his face in Harry’s shoulder—much higher now that Harry was a man—and held him tight, shaking in his arms._
> 
> _“I am sorry,” he murmured, and with his sonorous still active, the entire school heard it. “So sorry, Harry. I never wanted to hurt you as much as I have done. You were never—never the arrogant wretch I tried to pretend you were. You have always been a hero to me. I am so sorry that, until now, you never knew.”_
> 
> _Harry slipped a hand into Severus’ hair and held him tight, tears of his own sliding down his face. “Thank you,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear. “Gods, thank you so much, Headmaster. It’s all right now, okay? We know.”_
> 
> _He turned so the rest of the students could see him, still supporting the headmaster with a strong arm around his shoulders and a hand pressed against his chest. “We know you gave everything of yourself—your friends, your honour, your personality, and even nearly lost your life to save us all.” His sharp look at his peers made most of them duck their heads in shame or nod along. “We were hurt, yes, but we’re alive, and that’s down to you.”_
> 
> _Harry squeezed the headmaster’s hand and nudged him closer. “You have my support, sir, however you have need of it.”_
> 
> _A cheer went up, starting from Harry’s closest friends—who, after all, had stood by him through everything and wouldn’t turn their back on him now—then the DA, then the entire school. The headmaster trembled and leaned against Harry, all the strength gone out of him._
> 
> _“Come on,” Harry whispered. “Let’s get you to a chair.”_
> 
> _Severus cancelled his Sonorous and murmured, “I… I cannot believe—is this real, Harry?”_
> 
> _Harry smiled sadly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Severus’ ear, his heart thumping as the man turned into his touch with a sigh. “Yeah, it’s real, sir. You’re a hero, even though you had to act like a villain. And we’ll make sure you’re safe from now on and you never have to pretend to be someone you’re not ever again.”_
> 
> _Harry hadn’t quite understood the flash of pain in the headmaster’s eyes, but the smile that followed knocked the breath from his chest._
> 
> _“I am in your debt, Harry.”_
> 
> _“No. There are no more debts or obligations between us, sir. It’s just you and me from now on, okay?”_
> 
> _Severus gave him a curt nod, blinking hard. “I… yes. That sounds lovely.”_
> 
> _“Good.”_

 

By the time Harry resurfaced from his memories, the giggle parade had moved on. With a sigh of relief, he made sure the hallway was clear and dashed for the ball. He winced at the sound of music drifting through the corridors as he approached the Great Hall. Late, of course. Those damn girls made him late for most things these days. He only managed to make it to Severus’ classes in time—as gentle as he had become these days, Severus still punished tardiness and inattention harshly. He was a good teacher, fair and knowledgeable, but as strict as ever, and Harry had no desire to spend the rest of his school nights mucking out Severus’ cauldrons.

He’d much rather spend them as he had done most of the year, ensconced in the man’s office or quarters, talking about anything and everything. They had become close over the past few months—so close, Harry had the mad desire to make _Severus_ the partner of his choice. Gods, he wished he could. But Severus was twice his age, educated, cultured, handsome—he would never look twice at a scrawny dunderhead like Harry.

Still, maybe Harry could at least convince him to dance. He hoped he might, at least.

Harry found his friends waiting along the nearest wall and slunk towards them under a _Notice-Me-Not_. Hermione jumped as Harry called her name and appeared out of thin air at her side, then sighed in exasperation.

“I take it the idiot patrol chased you here?”

Harry gave a wry laugh. “How can you tell?”

“Your hair looks as though you’ve just stepped out of a cyclone.” She flicked her wand a few times over him, sending waves of magic into his hair and clothes and filling him with a tickling sensation. “There. Much better.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, ‘Mione.” He leaned against the wall beside Ron and gave his friend a bright smile. “You clean up well, mate. Glad you went with the brown robes instead of that hideous orange.”

Ron blushed. “What? It’s the _Cannons’_ colours.”

A snort escaped Harry. “Yeah, but they don’t much go with red hair.”

“Hear, hear,” said Hermione with an emphatic nod.

Ron sighed. “Can’t wear anything I want to with this mop.”

“You’ll live.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and scanned the crowd for Severus. He didn’t see him right away, but perhaps the man had taken to the shadows. “So, what did I miss? How’s McGonagall’s plan working out?”

“Eh, so-so, mate,” said Ron with a shrug. “Daphne Greengrass and Neville have taken a couple turns, Luna and Malfoy are dancing as we speak, and Dean asked Davis for a spin, but no one else’s been brave enough to approach the snakes yet. No one from the other houses, anyway.”

“It _might_ help if a certain Gryffindor hero took the lead,” said Hermione with a sly grin. “If the crowds saw _you_ dancing with a Slytherin and getting on well, they’d practically trip over themselves to follow suit.”

Harry snorted. “Maybe. I’d planned to ask… but I don’t see him.”

“I haven’t seen the headmaster either,” said Hermione with a shake of her head. “Maybe he’s not feeling well. McGonagall opened the dance, so I’m not sure he’s about.”

Harry’s hopes deflated, and he flopped against the wall with a sigh. “Damn. There goes my evening.”

“Well, maybe it’s not over yet,” Hermione whispered, a thrill in her voice. “Look over there, Harry. There’s a bit of a mystery about, and we’re all dying with curiosity.”

His eyes tracked her pointing finger, and, as his gaze focused on the object of Hermione’s attention, his jaw nearly fell off his face.

Dear gods. On the other side of the room, illuminated by moonlight and the glow of true happiness, stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her sleek, black hair coiled around her head in delicate locks of ebony, secured in place with what appeared to be a jewelled snake pin. She had on a black, strappy gown that draped to her feet and slit halfway up the skirt. Sexy, yes, but still classy enough for a room full of students. Black opera gloves covered her arms past her elbows, but her hands were elegant and strong. Above the hem of her glove, a golden armband coiled around a firm bicep, and a pair of golden baubles dangled from her earlobes. Neat, black pumps emerged from her gown when she moved.

By far, she was the most elegantly-dressed woman there, in his opinion.

Hermione nudged his shoulder, causing Harry to shut his mouth with an audible click.

“We saw her talking to McGonagall earlier in the evening,” she said. “McGonagall patted her shoulder and smiled when they talked, though she seemed shocked at first, so she must know her somehow. Quite the mystery, hmm?”

“Uh… yeah.”

But Harry found more mystery surrounding her than the simple matter of her identity. Something about her made him question her appearance. Her dark eyes seemed familiar, though he could swear he’d never seen a face that beautiful before, and her body radiated feline grace and power. Almost _too_ much.

Was she really a woman?

Her height—sweet Merlin, she was taller than most of the _men_ —and her strong, shapely arms might have made him question her gender if not for the firm breasts across her chest and the positively angelic face above her long, slender neck—wait, was that a hint of an Adam’s apple? Fuck, he didn’t even care. Harry was bi anyway, and biologically-male or not, she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen.

“Merlin’s beard! Who _is_ she, Hermione?”

“That’s the thing, Harry. No one knows. Isn’t she gorgeous though?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Cheers, mate,” said Ron with a laugh. “She’s a fair sight—” He coughed and amended his words at Hermione’s sharp-eyed stare. “But I’m happy with my own beauty. ‘Sides, there’s no way she’s not a Slytherin, and I just… can’t abide by that.”

If anything, Hermione’s glare sharpened further. “Ron. We’re supposed to be working to _ease_ inter-house relations.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, and I will do. Still doesn’t mean I’d trust an unknown Slytherin woman so close when I’ve got my own perfectly good Gryffindor. Besides, she looks as though she could break me like a twig if I stick my feet in my mouth. I’m rather prone to that, you know.”

Hermione’s anger vanished in a giggle. “ _Rather_ prone?”

“All right, all right, so I’m practically choking on my own ankles most hours of the day.”

Harry laughed too. “True enough. But damn, she really is gorgeous. What makes you think she’s Slytherin, though?”

Hermione shrugged. “We don’t know for certain, but it’s entirely feasible. Her hair’s pinned up with a snake clip, but wait until you see the—oh. That should make it clear enough.”

The woman had turned to pour herself a cup of punch, revealing a strong, slender back and _miles_ of bare, creamy skin. Sweet Jesus. Harry had to think cold thoughts before he was calm enough even to notice the chains crisscrossing her shoulders and the golden snake clasp coiling at their join.

“Ah. Well, she might just like snakes,” said Harry in a tone with far too much squeak to fool anyone.

Hermione smirked. “It sounds rather like you do too.”

Harry’s face might have just burst into flames judging by the heat. “Well, I _am_ a Parselmouth,” he muttered.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “ _Are_ you? Still? I had thought once the….” She drew a line over her forehead. “—Had gone, you might lose that ability.”

“Well, I could talk to Slytherin’s portrait just fine the other day.”

“Slytherin? When did you find his portrait, mate?” Ron didn’t look pleased with the idea that Harry had gone hunting for it either, but then, Ron was always the slowest of them to let go of his prejudices.

“A couple days ago. Had to run down to the dungeons for Snape and Slytherin’s portrait was on the door next to his supply storage.” Harry frowned. “Come to think of it, Snape’s lab is in the same area. Hmm.”

“What were you doing for the old bat this time?” Another prejudice Ron had yet to let go. Severus had become a new person since the war had ended and freed him from his shackles, but far be it from Harry’s most thick-skulled friend to notice.

“Ron.” Harry’s tone turned dangerous. “How many times to I have to make it clear to you I won’t tolerate that? The man gave more for us than anyone. He deserves your respect.”

“Sorry.” Ron flushed bright red and looked away, muttering to himself.

“You sound it,” said an equally-irritated Hermione.

“Well, he’s just—if he was decent, he shouldn’t have been such an _arse_!”

Harry scoffed. “I am _not_ hashing out this conversation again. Wanker. You _know_ why.” He pushed off the wall and brushed off his trousers. “Do I look all right, ‘Mione?”

She gave him a quick once-over and flicked her wand at his shirt, turning the crimson silk a brilliant emerald green. “If you’re trying to impress a certain potential Slytherin, I wager that colour would do you more favours.”

Ron choked out, “What? What do y—”

“Knew you’d catch on.” Harry grinned at his female friend, ignoring Ron’s sputtering.

Hermione grinned back. “Good luck!”

“I may well need it,” said Harry with a laugh. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who fancies a dance with the loveliest lady at the ball.”

Ron turned a bright shade of something between puce and red. “Just… just, keep your wand close, right?”

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, “Well, one of my wands will certainly be at attention, I think.”

Ron nearly strangled himself in his rush to inhale all the air in the room at once, and Harry smirked at his friend’s obvious discomfiture. Really, Ron needed to grow up. The war was over, and not all the Slytherins had fought against them. Zabini, Greengrass, hell, even _Malfoy_ had helped the Light, in their own ways. Zabini and Greengrass had fought back-to-back with Harry and Hermione for a time, and if not for Greengrass’ shields and Zabini’s ability to feel curses and heal, Fred most certainly would not have come out of the war alive. Nor would have Severus, Remus, or Tonks, for that matter. Really, Ron should be grateful for everything they had done in spite of the risk to themselves.

And Harry knew of no better way to force his backwards-minded friend to leave his old grudges behind than by relinquishing his own.

Not to mention, it really _did_ improve inter-house relations and ease post-war tensions when Harry showed himself as allied with the house of Snakes. His defence of those Slytherins and purebloods who had fought for the Light and insistence upon fair trials for the others had drawn the attention of Britain—and given the Slytherins a better chance at life. Thanks to his stubborn refusal to back down, they had since discovered that several of the Death Eaters truly _had_ been under the Imperius curse, or acting as spies for various Light-sided entities. Rookwood, Selwyn, Yaxley, and Travers had all been cleared since. And Snape, of course, had received an order of Merlin for his bravery and sacrifice. Harry had made damn sure of that.

It came as no surprise that Lucius Malfoy had, in fact, _not_ been acting under any sort of mind-altering curse, but that Riddle had threatened Draco into serving as a Death Eater and the boy had never wanted to wear the mark or mistreat Muggleborns _had_ come as rather a shock. To both the Light and to his own father. Harry had struck up a tentative alliance with the Malfoy scion as a result, and while they weren’t exactly _friends_ , the rivalry and the barbs had fallen to the wayside.

If Ron could only see past his own nose, he would understand that Slytherins were as human as any other person, and not every Death Eater had come from the house of snakes. Really, a person’s house said little enough about their personality and less about their loyalties.

So little, Harry had urged the headmaster to leave the distinction of house behind and simply split the classes into groups based on age, or perhaps interests. Snape had agreed, but the board hadn’t, and so he, Harry, and Minerva had done what they could to heal the wounds the war and decades of institutionalised prejudice had left behind.

Dancing with an attractive Slytherin lady would certainly further that goal, though Harry had to admit his work on bridging the gap hardly entered into his mind as he approached his quarry. _Damn_ , the woman had legs for days. He could just imagine them wrapped around him and—shite. Best to nip _that_ line of thought in the bud before he made a fool of himself. 

With what he hoped was a winning smile, Harry made his way to the beauty’s side and poured a fresh glass of punch for her. “Fancy a drink?”

“Not one I did not see you prepare,” the woman said, still scanning the crowd. “I am afraid I have been the… object of many a man’s fancy tonight, and I would be a fool to—” She turned and paused as she met his eyes. “Oh. I… never mind. You are—”

But Harry had already set the first cup aside and was making a new one. “Of course, of course. Sorry about that. Wasn’t thinking.” His cheeks burned. “I’ll just take that one for myself, and—” He poured a second glass, leaving his hands in plain sight. “Will that do? I won’t be offended if you’d rather not.”

She took the cup from his hands with a calculating look. _Definitely_ a Slytherin. “You are Harry Potter, are you not? The boy hero the world cannot stop singing the praises of?”

Harry’s smile twitched into a grimace. “Uh… well, to be honest, I’m just—it wasn’t just me, you know. Really, I only had a small part. Neville Longbottom did just as much, and my friends, and….” He glanced towards the head table and wondered where Snape had gone tonight. His heart gave a pang that the man wasn’t there. Harry had wanted to see what he looked like.

“And?”

Harry came out of his thoughts with a jolt. “And the headmaster—gods. He’s been so brave, so strong for so long, and none of us had any idea until he shared his memories with me the night of the battle. I… I made his job so much harder.” He shook himself and gave her a wan smile. “Sorry about that. It’s just that I don’t much like to hear that kind of praise, not when so many people gave so much more than I ever did.”

Something in her gaze softened. “You sound as though you admire the headmaster.”

“I do. Greatly. Though I’m not enough of a fool to say it to his face. He’d not much like it, I don’t think.”

She gave him a wistful smile. “On the contrary, Mister Potter, I think you will find that everyone likes to hear they are worthy once in a while.”

Harry glanced to Snape’s empty chair again and nodded. “You’re right. I should tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? I don’t _think_ he can use human parts in potions, can he?”

The woman gave a low, rich laugh that sent tingles up his spine. “I do believe blood is useful in several, but as they are all extremely dark, I am unsure of how useful your… donation would prove to be.”

Harry laughed too. “You talk like him, a bit.”

Her gaze turned wary. “Indeed?”

He fixed her with a searching look, having an inkling of where he had seen those dark eyes before. It couldn’t be… _could it_?

“Yeah,” he said, gauging her reaction carefully. “You use formal speech, you’re cultured, witty, and obviously intelligent, with a bit of a sarcastic side. He’s much the same. In public anyway.”

Her gaze went flat. “And in private?”

But Harry could sense a trick question from a mile away. Perhaps years of navigating around Snape’s landmines had taught him to be sensitive.

“Well, it’s just that, isn’t it? Private. I don’t think he’d be happy if I broke his trust with someone I don’t know that well, do you?”

Her shoulders sagged with relief—a slight motion, but enough that Harry’s suspicion deepened.

“I am sure you are correct. Forgive my rudeness, please.”

Harry smiled hesitantly. “Not at all. Though I must admit I feel a bit… unbalanced. You know my name, but I’ve yet to hear yours.”

Her eyes met his, and in the familiar sensation of the slightest push upon his mind, Harry _knew_.

“Or perhaps I don’t need it.”

Pink flushed her face and her eyes widened slightly. “I—”

“Don’t worry, sir—ma’am,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ve trusted me enough to let me see you when you’re just being yourself before. If this is another aspect to who you are, that’s okay with me. You’re safe, Headmaster. I promise.”

A rush of hot breath against Harry’s neck made him feel cool and fiery inside at once. “Oh. I… thank you.” She moved back, her eyes uncertain, cheeks red, but her lips curved into a tentative smile. “Call me… Ophelia.”

“Ophelia? That’s a lovely name.”

“It is from Shakespeare.”

“Fitting too, then.”

‘Ophelia’ lowered her head. “I… perhaps.”

Harry gave her a shy smile. “You know, I actually came here to ask you for a dance. Though, I do understand if you’d rather not, considering.”

Ophelia’s dark eyes went wide. “You would still want to, knowing…?”

Harry whispered to her, “That you’re a man? I knew that before I came over here. I don’t care either way. Whether you’re male or not, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And knowing it’s _you_ , well, that just makes me want to dance more.”

A sharp intake of breath sounded near his ear and rushed out against his cheek. “H-Harry, what are you saying?”

Harry ran over his words again in his head, wondering what he had said to startle Snape so. Then it clicked.

“ _Oh_. Merlin. I only meant that… well, like I already said, I admire you. Deeply. And that was a hell of a Slytherin move, _Ophelia_. Tell him indeed.”

Ophelia chuckled softly against Harry’s ear. “If… if you are truly not… repulsed, then I think I should like a dance.”

“ _Repulsed_? Sweet Merlin. I was going to ask you for a turn anyway. I mean, before the ball. Interhouse relations and all. And, well, I trust you.”

“Unlike the crowds of admirers like those who ensured you arrived fashionably late this evening or who dose your birthday gifts with love potions?”

Harry chuckled lightly. “Yes, precisely.” A soft smile crossed his face. “You really are beautiful like this. I have to say, I wouldn’t mind seeing it more often, though….” He coughed and turned away, certain he shouldn’t speak the words that had popped into his head just then.

But a warm hand—soft and covered in velvet, but still the same elegant, long-fingered hands he knew—took his own and a hitching voice whispered against his ear, “Though _what_?”

“I… promise you won’t hate me?”

Ophelia’s voice rippled with affection. “I do not think I am capable of it any longer.”

“Oh.” The bottom swooped out of Harry’s stomach. Merlin, he was in trouble. “I… it’s just that… your everyday _look_ is good with me too.”

The hand on his tightened to the point of being painful. “Do not mock me.”

Harry pulled back with a jerk and tore his hand away. “Don’t _hurt_ me. And I’m not my father, Ophelia. I never have been.”

Sorrow and regret filled her eyes. “I hurt you? I did not intend….”

“You just squeezed too hard. I’ll live. It hurts worse that you would think I would treat you so badly when I’ve tried so hard to make it clear that I don’t want to be enemies anymore.”

Shaking, gentle fingers enclosed on his hand once more, a healing charm warm on their tips, and Harry knew an apology when he saw one. He squeezed her fingers and brushed his thumb across her knuckles.

“I was serious about that dance, if you’re interested?”

Her breath rushed in and out, tremulous, uncertain, and Harry knew the man was shocked at his interest, when Harry knew the truth of him.

Ophelia nodded and offered her hand to Harry. “I had hoped that you would see through my glamours. Only those who care about me for who I am will not be fooled. It surprises me that you are not the first to do so, however.”

Harry took her arm instead and guided her to the dance floor, painfully aware of all the eyes focused on them. Well, that _had_ been the point of this. At least, the one he would admit to anyone but Severus or Hermione. Or Ophelia, he supposed.

“I _do_ care about you. Who else knows?”

“Minerva. She was rather stunned, but has been fielding questions as to whether I belong here or not in support of me all night. I… I find I am overwhelmed with her acceptance.” Dark eyes swept up Harry’s figure and alighted on his face. “And yours.”

“I already told you, Ophelia, you’re an absolute vision. And knowing who you are, that your mind and your soul are just as beautiful as your body—well, why _wouldn’t_ I accept you?”

Ophelia’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight. “I have never been accepted. _Tolerated_ , but never welcomed.”

Harry settled one hand on her slender, strong waist and intertwined his other with hers. “Well, you are with me. And Professor McGonagall, apparently.”

Ophelia’s hand wrapped around the nape of Harry’s neck, brushing the feathery hair at the base of his skull, and a shiver trickled down his spine. She withdrew, caution and hurt in her eyes, until Harry smiled and guided her back.

“That _wasn’t_ revulsion, Ophelia.” More like desire. Gods, she was lovely, and Harry had wanted her as Severus before the ball began.

Her cheeks took on a faint blush, but her eyes went smoky and dark. “Oh?”

He couldn’t quite find his tongue with that intense stare boring into his soul. “Uh… er… y-yeah.”

Her hand around his neck brought him a little closer. “I see.”

Harry swallowed hard. “Is that—does it… _bother_ you? I promise I won’t… push. And… maybe I shouldn’t ask. Maybe you’re not, er… like me.”

Ophelia laughed softly. “Harry, I am in a _dress_ and you are concerned whether I share your orientation?”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stopped. “You’re…?”

“Yes.”

His heart beat again, and Harry let his breath out in a rush. “Merlin. I… then is this going where I _think_ it might be?”

That expression of wary guardedness crossed her face again. “That would depend.”

“On?”

“On whether you find such a situation amenable or not.” She spoke in a cool, detached tone, but the intense fear and vulnerability in her eyes gave her true feelings away. He wondered if she had let him see intentionally or if Severus had less ability to hide his thoughts while acting as a woman.

“I… you….” Harry swallowed hard, unable to find the words.

Sorrow flickered in her eyes. “Do not trouble yourself. I understand and will not push you for what you cannot give.”

Harry cursed his nervousness. Gods, he was a Gryffindor, wasn’t he? Where were his bollocks?

“I’m having trouble saying it, but….”

With a deep breath to steady himself, he fanned trembling fingers over the bare skin of her back and brought her close. They danced with their arms wrapped around each other, eyes locked, both shaking with deep emotion and, for Harry, at least, the knowledge that losing Severus would hurt like hell if he bollocksed this up.

Ophelia released Harry’s hand and wrapped her arm around his neck instead. He slipped his now-free hand around her back so it rested on her shoulder and gave her a hesitant smile.

“Is that a yes, Ophelia?”

She nodded, once, her cheeks bright red, and Harry’s grin might have lit the entire hall.

“Brilliant.”

 

* * *

 

Severus wasn’t sure how many hours passed with Harry in his arms, the young man’s eyes fixed on his own as if they were the only two people in the room. Occasionally, this person or that would try to cut in, some for ‘Ophelia’ and some for Harry, but Severus’ dark glares sent them packing every time. Harry was _his_ , damn it. For this one moment, he wanted to be happy. To be _envied_. And Merlin, every witch in the room—and a few of the wizards—definitely envied Severus his position at that moment, wrapped in the arms of the ‘Chosen One’ and content there.

They couldn’t hope to share the deep understanding Severus had reached with Harry in the months following the war, however. Only Harry understood why Severus both loved and loathed the former headmaster for everything he had endured, everything he _hadn’t_ experienced because of Albus’ interference. Only Harry and Severus knew what it meant to play the fool, to dance along the edge of a sword, and in the end, give everything of themselves down to their very lives for the war, for people who couldn’t possibly comprehend the depth of their sacrifice.

They had shared nightmares, shared dreams, and overcome years of forced hatred in the months since Voldemort’s demise. No wittering chit could hope to compare to that kind of bond.

He leaned down to rest his cheek against Harry’s. Merlin, this was… good. Soft, warm. Knowing Harry accepted him, even in this form, found him beautiful—and more, that he liked the person underneath Severus’ glamours—filled him with a giddy sort of hope he hadn’t felt since before Black chewed up his heart and spat it out. Publicly.

He still had nightmares of the day Black had, in front of the entire school, called him a ponce and told him to stop stalking him already. The boy had made Severus out to be a deluded, obsessed hanger-on, but Black had been the one to approach Severus first— _in the dark of night, always dark, always secret, always hidden, never loved_. The scorn, the ridicule from that event still scarred him even now.

But with Harry, it was different. Harry knew the truth, and yet, he danced with Severus and held him tight.

And yet, a trickle of doubt remained. Severus was in the body of a beautiful woman at the moment. Would Harry still want… _this_ —whatever this was—when his glamours faded?

A soft sound of contentment brushed against his ear, a rush of a sigh, arms pulling him tighter, and Severus’ fears dimmed to a quiet thrum in the back of his mind. At least for now, he could enjoy the rare pleasure of being the belle of the ball and having the beau at his side.

“Ophelia?”

“Hmm?” Severus’ voice came out languid and low, rich with contentment.

“Can I ask you… why? Not that I’m complaining—you’re beautiful, and I’ll support you no matter how you choose to dress—but why did you come… like _this_ tonight? Why not as your usual self?”

Severus hesitated, unsure if he wanted to delve into such painful secrets in the middle of the Great Hall. And yet, with Harry so close and the music swelling around them, perhaps it was safe—if he kept his voice low.

“I—you will not… laugh?”

Harry’s arms tightened around Severus. “Never at you. You don’t have to tell me if it’s too much. I was just curious.”

Severus released a shaky breath against Harry’s cheek. “I will tell you, but these are… these secrets _hurt_ , Harry. Please, be careful.”

“Okay, angel. I swear, I won’t hurt you with them.”

“Angel?”

“You have been for me. An avenging angel, guardian angel, and you’re so beautiful. So yeah, you’re my angel, if you want to be.”

Severus’ heart thrummed, but at the same time joy filled his veins, fear licked at his gut and made him wary. He couldn’t trust this, not until he knew Harry would—

“Ophelia….” Harry’s thumb rubbed his waist and gentle lips kissed his cheek. “We’ll talk about it later, okay? You’re shaking. And I think being in the middle of so many people is only making you more uncomfortable.”

Severus couldn’t deny that Weasley’s intense glare made him nervous. People didn’t look at him like that any longer—at least not _good_ people—and he wasn’t in his proper form anyway. Weasley had no reason to look like he suspected Severus of foul play. With a little shiver, he turned them so he could watch the man, keep him in his line of sight.

And yet….

“I… trust you, Harry. And no one will hear us over the music. I am only… frightened.”

Harry whispered, “I’ll stand by you, love. No matter what.”

The soft name, the declaration melted the ice on Severus’ spirit, and he bared what he could stand to reveal of his dark past under cover of a _Muffliato_ and a slow waltz.

“I have always been… ugly. Ridiculed. For once, I wanted to be….”

“Wanted.”

“Yes, exactly.”

Harry’s lips curved against Severus’ cheek. “You are, though. And not just in this form, lovely as it is.”

Severus’ breath caught. His eyelids stung and his heart raced. Stunned, he leaned back and searched Harry’s eyes. “You cannot—” His voice broke and wavered. “I….”

Harry just pulled him back into his arms and whispered against his ear, “I meant it. I was afraid to say anything until you implied you might be interested in me—thought you were too good for me—but I….” Cheeks hot against Severus’ own, he turned his face into Severus’ ear and whispered, “I wanted you before tonight.”

Severus’ fingers tightened in Harry’s robes and his body trembled in his arms. “I cannot believe… but no. You are the epitome of a Gryffindor. You do not lie.”

“Not to those I care about, anyway. I only lie to the bloody Ministry or idiots who think they have more right to me—or to my friends and family—than they do. I’ll lie to protect those I care about in a heartbeat. To protect you.”

Severus’ chest filled with tight, brilliant warmth, and he rested his head atop Harry’s, overcome. “I have never been protected either.”

Harry’s arms tightened around him. “You will b—”

Behind them, a low voice muttered, “Mate, I’m sorry about this, but it’s for your own good. _Finite Totalis_!”

Severus jerked back, attempting to avoid the backlash of Weasley’s spells, but sheer love and wonder for Harry had slowed his reaction time. His wandless, silent _Protego Potens_ did not cover them fast enough, nor did Harry’s, and Weasley’s spell washed over them both. Severus gasped and shuddered as his glamours melted away, revealing his biological body. He debated for an instant on burying his face in Harry’s shoulder to hide himself, but no. Severus had never hidden from the public’s scorn, never backed down from a challenge, and he wouldn’t start now. He held his head high and glared as hard as he could at the Weasley brat.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Weasley,” he spat.

“ _Snape_?” Weasley choked, eyes bugging. “You’re—but—you were _beautiful_! How could—”

Severus’ heart ripped, but he refused to acknowledge the pain. Not in public anyway.

“He still is,” Harry murmured, and offered Severus his hand. “I believe we were dancing, Sev? Unless you’d rather get out of here?”

As the jeering, the laughter, the cruelty started again all around him, Severus wanted nothing more than to flee. And yet… Harry’s face revealed his honesty, his devotion and desire to protect Severus, and his pain eased. The world might not accept him, but at least one person loved and wanted him as he was.

Tears stung his eyes as he took Harry’s hand without a word and allowed the man to guide him back into his arms.

“It’s all right, Severus,” Harry whispered against his ear. “You’re still beautiful. You’re still so… gods. Your body is _perfect_. And that makeup really brings out your eyes, you know? You’re stunning.”

This time, Severus _did_ bury his face in Harry’s hair, but only so the rest of the school would not see the tears he failed to blink back.

“H-Harry….”

“Nothing has changed.” Harry kissed Severus’ cheek. “I told you I wanted you before today and I meant it.”

“I… I believe it.”

“Good.”

Harry’s hand tangled in Severus’ hair—which had shifted to a half-back style as he hadn’t the length in his natural shape to maintain an elaborate updo—and brought him closer. “I have you, love. You’re all right. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Ron spluttered behind him. “I… I just don’t understand it. That kind of _Finite_ should have stopped any love spell….”

Severus jerked his head up, uncaring now of who saw his tears when Weasley had just maligned him so. “Another hundred points from Gryffindor for sheer stupidity. Go _away_ , Weasley, before I am tempted to remove the lot.”

“Yes, Ron,” said Harry in a dark, lethal voice that promised pain for Weasley later. “I think Severus is right and you should go before I’m tempted to do things I might regret.”

“But, _mate_. Why are you still—I mean, he was in disguise! He tricked you into dancing with him, and—”

“Actually, if you must know,” said Harry in an even darker voice, “I knew Severus was a man before I even approached him. And I worked out his identity three minutes into talking with him. I knew who he was before _I_ asked him to dance.”

Weasley sputtered, “But-but-but _why_? Why would you—it must be a spell. Or maybe a potion. Hermione would—need Herm—”

“Hermione is right behind you, you bloody idiot,” Granger snapped, as much ire in her tone as Harry’s. “And she’s known Harry fancied the headmaster since sixth year.”

“ _What_?”

“Get your head out of your arse, Ron,” Harry snarled. “Slytherins aren’t evil on principle, Severus is not a monster, and I am _not_ under a spell. _You_ , however, are going to find yourself cursed in short order if you don’t get the hell away from us.”

“But—”

Granger jerked on Weasley’s arm. “Let’s _go_ , Ron. Now.”

“But I—”

“ _NOW_!”

At Granger’s sharp demand, Weasley flinched and meekly followed the girl to a dark corner of the room. Her scathing diatribe carried even over the laughter and mockery, the cries of horror that Harry still wanted him, even as he was.

Harry turned and, still holding Severus’ hand, glared the crowd into silence.

“Shut it! All of you. Severus gave more to keep your ungrateful hides safe during the war than anyone. If he wants to wear a dress, let the man wear a bloody dress. Gods, he’s not hurting any of you, and can’t you see how gorgeous he is? Are you blind? And even if you don’t think he’s beautiful, why do you _care_ what he wears? It’s not any of your business, and you have no right to hurt him for it. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

With that, Harry turned his back on the subdued crowd and took Severus back into his arms. “It’s all right, love. I don’t give a damn what any of them say. You’re beautiful to me, inside and out.”

Severus shuddered, relief and powerful emotion rocking him to his core. Merlin, when Weasley came to interfere, Severus had believed Harry would side with his long-time friend over himself, but not only had Harry stayed with Severus, he had raked his friend over the coals—and the entire school, for that matter—for being bigoted prats. He had announced before the entire school that he found Severus beautiful and, in the same breath, made it clear he would accept no bullying or cruelty against him. And even then, Minerva had stepped forward and taken over the lambasting of the student body in the wake of Harry’s defence.

Gods, had he stepped into an alternate timeline? When he had dressed that evening, he had wanted to be beautiful, but never in a million years had he believed anyone would find him so in his true shape, mangled nose and all. And his hair—he had never imagined—

“Sev, I really like this hairstyle on you. It’s so elegant. Your face looks—I dunno how to say what I’m thinking, but I can see you better without your hair in your face, and I like it.”

Severus clutched Harry tight and pressed his face into the younger man’s hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “If it matters, I find you stunning as well. Especially—that colour suits you.”

To his surprise, Harry gave a soft laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that I started the night in red, but Hermione told me a green shirt would go further in impressing a Slytherin and changed it.”

With the jeering silenced and Minerva’s tirade ended, Severus was able to laugh with Harry, though it came out subdued and uncertain. “It did at that.” He held Harry tighter. “I am shocked that Miss Granger came to my defence over her partner.”

“She knows Ron is in the wrong. We’ve both tried to drill it in his head that his anti-Slytherin prejudices are going to get people hurt. Now that he’s hurt his supposed best friend by it, maybe he’ll learn something.”

“Perhaps. I hope so, for your sake.”

“And for yours.” Harry cradled Severus closer, gently, like a lover. It broke and healed Severus’ heart all at once.

“Harry,” he murmured, “what happens when the dance ends?”

“You mean with us?” Harry’s voice was unsteady and frightened. “What do you _want_ to happen, love? I… I don’t want to—I care about you. This time I’ve spent with you tonight is the happiest I’ve been in ages—bar Ron’s stupidity, of course. I don’t want to leave your arms. But I’ll… I’ll step aside, if that’s what you want. It’ll hurt like hell, but I’ll do it, if you want me to.”

Severus breathed harshly into Harry’s hair. “You would truly stay with me?”

“I knew who you were before I held you like this, Severus. Yeah, I choose you, if you’ll have me.”

“ _Have you_?” Severus held back a sob of relief and wonder by sheer strength alone. “I… I feel honoured that you would even ask a man such as myself—”

“You mean a beautiful, intelligent, honourable, faithful, _powerful_ man that I’ve fancied for over two years—ups and downs notwithstanding? Of course I choose you, you dunderhead.”

The little quip had the effect of breaking Severus out of his overwhelming emotions. “I… thank you. For understanding what I need.”

“You wouldn’t be happy about breaking down in public. But, Sev, you haven’t answered me.” Harry’s voice trembled with uncertainty. “I know I’m awkward and scrawny and not half so lovely as you are, nor intelligent, nor brave, nor—”

Severus kissed Harry’s forehead to silence his self-deprecatory litany. “Harry, none of that is true.”

It was Harry’s turn to catch his breath and cling tighter to Severus. “S-so, you _don’t_ think I’m no good?”

“The hero of the war, not good?”

“Don’t. Please. I’m not a hero. I’m just Harry.”

“But you _are_ a hero, Harry.” Severus tangled his hand in Harry’s curls and held him close. “Ssh. I did not intend my words to sound as you have interpreted them. It is only that, you _are_ brave and lovely. You _are_ intelligent and honourable and kind. You always have been.”

Harry took a shaky breath. “It’s not just because…?”

Severus pulled back with a glare. “Do you truly believe me to be so shallow?”

Harry winced and shook his head. “Never, Sev. It’s just….” He tilted his head towards the row of girls glaring at Severus as if he had stolen their favourite sweet.

“Ah. But surely you know by now that I am nothing like those besotted fools?”

Harry nodded and eased Severus back into his embrace. “I do. I’m sorry. I guess I just got scared. Will you forgive me?”

Severus sighed and rested his cheek against Harry’s. “It is understandable. They have all but driven us _both_ mad this term.”

“Merlin, that’s the truth,” said Harry with a shudder. “Can’t even go to the loo without a crowd these days.”

Severus smoothed Harry’s hair. “I am sorry. I have tried to protect you.”

“I know. You have done. I’m just whinging a bit. Being the ‘Chosen One’ and all that rot isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.”

Severus snorted. “True. But Chosen One or not, you are still a hero, Harry. And, as to whether I return your sentiments or not….” His breath hitched and his hands tangled in the fabric of Harry’s dress robes. “Harry, do you not know that you have also had my… my interest for months?” He whispered against Harry’s ear, “I would be an utter fool to turn you down.”

Harry gasped and pulled back, a bright smile on his face and his eyes wide with hope. “Sev! Really? You will?”

Severus paused. “You are… you _are_ asking me to be your partner, correct?”

Harry’s smile morphed into a bemused frown. “Er… yeah? What did you think I meant?”

Severus’ cheeks burned. “I thought you must have meant what you said, but when most people ask if a person will ‘have them,’ it means….”

A red-faced Harry choked out, “Marriage.”

“Yes. So I thought it best to verify.”

Harry groaned and covered his face. “Shite. Sev, that’s not what I meant. It’s still—we just started. It’s much too soon.”

“Yes. But I will gladly be your partner, ah, insofar as I am allowed.”

“Yeah?” Harry’s hand dropped and his smile returned. “Brilliant.” He wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist and held him close. “But, you know, if you _wanted_ more, I… I don’t think I’d turn you down either. That’s what I want, one day. Forever with you.”

Severus’ heart stilled and his breath exploded from his lips in a shocked rush. “You… you would— _truly_?”

Harry gave a nervous laugh and raked his hand through his hair. “Merlin, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry—it’s just too soon. I feel like such a cad.”

Severus stilled his raking hand and held it tight. “The only question here was whether you meant it, Harry.”

Harry sighed and rubbed Severus’ fingers. “I _did_ mean it. You’ve always been there for me, even when you had to pretend not to be, and I… these past few months, as you’ve slowly let me in, broken down the walls, shown me the man you truly are—hell, Severus. I’ve never been happier. I already know you’re a good man. I already know your secrets and your heart and that _nothing_ will ever break your sense of honour. You’re a beautiful, wonderful man. And I want to have you by my side forever.”

He flushed and dropped his head. “But I know we’re not ready for that, Severus. We can take it slow.” He gave Severus a sheepish smile. “I should’ve done from the start. Was stupid of me, really, to say anything.”

Tears streaked Severus’ face beyond all control. “Yes.”

Harry winced. “I’m sorry, Severus. I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you. Will you still be my partner, love? I don’t want to lose you.”

“You misunderstand me, Harry.” Severus traced a fingertip along Harry’s jaw. “I am saying _yes_. When you do ask me, that will be my answer.”

Harry’s breath rushed out against Severus’ lips. “What? _Really_? You mean…?”

“Where would I find another man so loving? So _accepting_ of my past, of me in general, to tell me he thinks I am lovely as both man and woman, that he believes makeup suits me even when I am _obviously_ masculine and… and unattractive at the best of times?”

“But you’re not.” Harry rubbed Severus’ tears away. “You’re _not_. Though I think I ruined your makeup. I’m sorry.”

Severus chuckled and fixed his face with a charm. “Better?”

“You were beautiful either way.”

“Harry… gods.” Severus laid their foreheads together. “We must speak of this before we go any further, pet.”

“Yeah, we really should. Are you okay?”

“I feel as if I have stepped into an alternate dimension, or perhaps a tsunami, but yes, I am well. Happier than I have ever been.” Severus cupped Harry’s cheek. “But, Harry, you must understand the rules before we can do this. I… as much as I wish I were free to kiss you at this moment, I am still your headmaster. Until you graduate, I cannot touch you more intimately than this. I cannot kiss you, or officially agree to be your husband until then.”

“Oh. But then why did you say yes earlier?”

Severus gave a nervous laugh. “I should not have done, honestly. I was overcome.” He leaned his head against Harry’s. “I cannot accept your hand yet, but students may _court_ instructors while they are in school, provided the student is an adult and there is no more than a twenty-five year age gap between them, but no romantic… liaisons are allowed until the student graduates. It is why a formal courtship is accepted, but other types of relationships are… frowned upon. In a courtship, you must keep your hands to yourself, for the most part, until I accept your suit without reservation. And I will not be able to do so until you are no longer a student.”

“Ah, I see. So I need to offer you a formal courtship? How do I do that, love?”

“You already have done. The dance, the declaration of intent—it is enough to begin an official courtship, though we should perform the ritual later to be certain magic recognises our relationship.”

“Okay. So, no snogging until I’m not a student anymore.” Harry gave him a lopsided smile. “That’s going to be tough. I’d really love to kiss you right now. But I’ll do anything to keep you safe, so I’ll keep my hands to myself. You guide me, show me what’s safe, and I’ll follow, yeah?”

Severus leaned close and, gathering his courage, brushed his lips across Harry’s cheek. “This is as much as we are allowed, until you graduate.”

Harry’s cheeks glowed red. With a goofy grin, he lifted a hand to the place Severus had kissed. “Merlin. Might be able to live with that. Felt it down to my toes.”

Severus’ face burned too. “Truly?” He sighed and laid his cheek against Harry’s temple. “Thank you. You have turned what would have been… a traumatic experience into something lovely.”

“Always will do, for you.”

Severus brushed another kiss against Harry’s hair and wondered when the fates had decided to smile on him.

 

* * *

 

Harry had stayed up late in Severus’ office, performing the courting ritual and talking about their hopes and dreams for the future. The portraits had watched with varying expressions—a certain former headmaster had nearly blinded them with his twinkle. Severus had assured a worried Harry they counted as chaperones as, if Severus was to do anything untoward, they could alert the other teachers. Harry, of course, hadn’t been worried about his honour, but Severus’ safety. When he explained this, Severus’ blush and soft smile had lit up his entire face.

They had kissed each other’s cheeks for a goodbye—Harry swore he still felt the pressure of those soft lips against him even as he walked into the tower. He tingled down to his toes, but his joy faded at the sight of Ron and Hermione waiting for him in the common room. Everyone else had already turned in—Merlin, how late _was_ it?

Hermione came to Harry’s side and gave him a tight hug. “I noticed you left with the headmaster tonight. How did it go?”

Harry searched her face for signs of disapproval, but only saw excitement and happiness for her friend.

“It went very well.” He couldn’t help the huge smile spreading over his face. “I’m courting him. I’d have just asked him to be my partner—well, I did at first—but as I’m still a student, we have to maintain a formal courtship until I graduate.”

Hermione squealed. “Oh, _Harry_! Congratulations. I know you’ve cared about him for so long.”

“I’m just glad Ginny and Zabini hit it off while I was gone,” he said with a wry smile. “I’d feel pretty bad about this otherwise, but with her happy with him, I’m free to be happy too.”

“And are you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s… I’ve never felt so….”

“Excited? Thrilled? Nervous?”

“Yeah,” said Harry with a laugh. “All of that plus some. I’m not even sure what I feel, but it’s good. I… it’s really good. Gods, I had no idea the man had such a _figure_. His robes tend to hide it, but _damn_ , Hermione.”

She tittered. “He wore that dress better than I could have, for sure.”

“None of that. You’re a beautiful lady yourself. But he’s so _tall_ , and those legs. Shite. This is _not_ a good line of thought if I’m to behave myself for the next five months.”

She gave him a firm nod. “Make sure you do. A quick shag isn’t worth the consequences to the headmaster.”

Harry grinned. “He said to tell you that you’re allowed to call him by his first name if you want, at least in private. We still have to maintain the appearance of student and headmaster in public. Well, you do. As I’m courting him, it would be awkward if I did except for when he’s teaching potions.”

“Really? That’s brilliant. And I’m glad he’s only teaching the NEWT levels now. He’s much better suited to older students, and knowing that everyone in his class at that level _wants_ to be there must help.”

“It does. That, and having fewer classes. He would be overwhelmed trying to teach all seven years _and_ work as the headmaster too.”

“True.”

Harry looked up at a sound from near the hearth and caught Ron watching them, his expression contrite and shamed.

Harry wasn’t about to forgive him that easily though. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ron stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “Harry, I… I’m really sorry. I thought—I mean, from my point of view, I saw you talk to a stranger, get friendly with her in _minutes_ , and then you had your arms around her neck and—I thought it was a love spell. I thought… I never had the slightest idea it was Headmaster Snape under there or that you already _knew_.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “You hurt him, you know. When you said he couldn’t have been the beauty I danced with before.”

Ron winced. “I’m sorry for that too, mate. I just… I’d never seen it before. A man in a dress and makeup. I didn’t even know they _could_ do it, you know? I didn’t know it was a thing. And you know me—my mouth starts before my brain does. But Hermione set me straight and, well, if that’s his thing and you’re courting him, I’ll support both of you.”

Harry grinned. “Really?”

Ron nodded. “I lost you twice before—I’m not stupid enough to abandon you again. I just… it might take some time to wrap my head around it. I’m still a little—that shocked me.”

“I reckon it would, but I hope you see this is one reason you’ve got to put those silly prejudices behind you. I think Severus was beautiful as himself and Ophelia tonight.”

“Oh,” Hermione said with a smile, “Ophelia is such a lovely name. A sad story, and yet, until you, Harry, I think his life _has_ been rather sad.”

“It won’t be any longer,” said Harry with a determined nod. “I’m going to make him happy.” He blushed and lowered his head. “He said I already have done.”

“Well then, mate,” said Ron, “I reckon that’s all I need to know. You’d best let Mum know about the courtship before she hears about it from someone else, though. She’ll want to give you two a ‘proper wedding.’” He imitated her most demanding tones on the last few words and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

Harry grinned. “I will do.”

“Congratulations, Harry,” said Ron, “and I’m sorry I… well, I ruined your date.”

Harry shook his head. “Actually, revealing him and defending him—he said it helped him to know I’d support him in all his forms. So it’s all right. He’s okay, and so are we.”

 Ron smiled hesitantly. “You forgive me, mate?”

“I reckon it _did_ look pretty suspicious. I knew it was Severus within two minutes of talking to him, though, so I wasn’t talking to a stranger. Still, I can see how it would look weird to you. So yeah, I forgive you. Just don’t say anything else bad about him, yeah?”

Ron nodded. “You got it. Just don’t give me details, and we’re good.”

Harry laughed. “There won’t be any details to give for a while, but yeah. I don’t think Sev would like me to talk about that either, so no fear there, mate.”

“Good to know.” Ron gave Harry a devilish grin. “So, are you going to go write mum? Because she’ll know by Monday. I guarantee it. You know how she is.”

Harry chuckled and went to hunt down a quill and some parchment.

 

* * *

 

Courting Severus was an experience Harry hoped he never forgot. It challenged his self-control, to be sure—every day, he wanted a proper kiss more—but perhaps the anticipation would make it sweeter when they finally could kiss without repercussions. Every day made him surer of his choice too, and by now, he was completely in love with the man. Harry hoped he knew it, even if he wasn’t technically allowed to say so yet.

Maybe he could do in a roundabout way. Flowers, maybe. Severus knew potions and ingredients—he might also know about the meanings attributed to certain flowers. Harry didn’t, but Hermione might be able to point him to the proper resources.

With these pleasant thoughts in mind, Harry walked right into the headmaster’s office. He had intended to knock, but had been so distracted on wondering if roses or lilies would be a better choice for Severus, he forgot.

The instant he walked in, Severus swept something black and gold off his desk. “Harry? Are you well?”

Harry frowned at the embarrassed blush on Severus’ cheeks. “I’m fine—just forgot to knock—but is something wrong, love? You don’t look happy.” He sat on the edge of Severus’ desk and frowned as the man pushed whatever he had been hiding further down his legs. “Sev, is what you’re hiding a surprise for me?”

Severus winced and shook his head.

“Then may I see it?”

Severus took a deep breath. “I… I am afraid.”

“I know, love, but I thought I made it clear to you already that I accept you for who you are, and nothing will change that.” Harry tucked a lock of hair behind Severus’ ear and rubbed his cheek. “What is it, Sev? What has you so upset?”

Severus swallowed hard and ducked his head, but brought the object in his lap onto the desktop. Harry caressed his crimson cheek once more before letting his gaze fall to the item Severus had tried to hide.

It was a black bag with a gold zip. Harry gave him a bemused look.

“Why are you so ashamed of this, Sev?”

With a harsh breath, Severus jerked his hand towards the bag.

“You want me to look inside?”

“Yes.” Severus’ reply came out gruff and terse, but Harry knew enough about him to know he was only afraid. He dropped a kiss upon Severus’ temple and opened the bag.

Several types of cosmetics sat inside.

“A cosmetic bag?” Harry gave him a warm smile. “You’d like to put a little on then?”

Severus flushed deep red. “I… it is not… _normal_.”

“Well, who told you that?”

Deep pain flickered across his face. “My father, for one.”

“Your father—no offence, love—was a complete arse. Who else?”

“No one,” Severus breathed and looked away.

“Love… you said ‘for one.’ I know that means someone else hurt you.” Harry stroked Severus’ hair. “Was it my da?”

“N-no.”

“Sirius then.”

Severus flinched and dropped his head, and Harry knew it was true.

“Damn.” Harry hopped off the desk and pulled Severus into a hug. “I’m sorry. I hate that my family hurt you so much. Can you talk about it?”

Severus’ eyes flickered to the portraits.

Harry stood and held Dumbledore’s gaze. “Sir, I think Sev needs me to silence this conversation. We’ll stay here where you can see us, and I give you my vow we won’t say things we’re not allowed to yet. Is it okay?”

“I have the utmost trust and respect for you both,” said Dumbledore. “Do take care of him. I am afraid your godfather left… deeper wounds than you know, and I fear Severus has never completely healed. If you can help him move on, I would be greatly indebted to you.”

At Harry’s sharp look, Dumbledore amended his statement.

“Or rather, more indebted to you than I already am.”

Harry nodded and returned to Severus’ side. “ _Muffliato_!” He rubbed Severus’ hair and held his hand. “Can you tell me now, love?”

Severus took a harsh breath. “I… I did not intend to hurt you by it.”

“I already know they hurt you, love. I don’t know how to heal it, though, until you tell me.”

“Your affection and kindness heal me, but….” Severus sighed and lowered his head into his hands. “It is not fair to keep it from you, when we will most likely be married soon.”

Harry cradled his face in gentle hands. “Sev, unless you don’t want to marry me, that’s a given.”

Severus whipped his head up, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Truly?”

“I… I’m not allowed to ask you yet, but know there’s no doubt in my mind I want you to be my forever.”

Severus blinked down tears and cupped Harry’s face. “I want—”

Harry pressed a fingertip to his lips. “Not yet, Sev. We still have three months left before it’s safe to promise each other that.”

Severus nodded and closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

“I’m always going to protect you. Now, what did my arsehole of a godfather do to hurt you so badly?”

Severus shuddered. “I… you saw the incident in fifth year.”

“Yes, but Dumbledore knows I’m already aware of that, so I know that’s not what he was talking about.”

“No. Before then, I—in my fourth year and fifth, Black and I were… l-lovers. After a fashion.”

“ _What_?” Harry conjured a chair and sat next to his partner, rubbing his back and holding his hand. “Dear gods. I had no idea. What happened?”

Severus clung to Harry’s fingers and trembled under his hands. “It was not a true relationship, but back then, I did not understand. He would meet me in empty classrooms after midnight and… well, snog. But he was cruel in the daylight. It was killing me by inches, and Lily knew it. She told me shortly before the OWLs that she believed Black was no good for me, and I deserved better.”

“You do. You deserve to be loved in the daylight as much as you are in the night.”

Severus laid his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Harry ran his fingers through Severus’ hair. “What happened next?”

“Lily wanted to make me feel better, so she said she was going to give me a makeover.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Severus laughed softly. “I had always been fascinated by her cosmetics, so she said she would put some on me and see how I looked.”

“What did she do then?”

“It wasn’t much—we were still young. Lily hadn’t anything dramatic. But she put a little black eyeliner on me, as well as some mascara and lip gloss, and I… well… I felt….”

“You liked it.” Harry rubbed Severus’ side. “You liked the way it made you feel.”

“Y-yes. And I had thought… I thought Black might—perhaps if I made myself more attractive, he might accept me—but no. He… instead, he broke it off with me. Said he didn’t want to be snogging some _queer_. When I pointed out I was already male, and by that definition, he was as queer as I had ever been, he struck me. He… my nose—he broke it. And it has never healed correctly since.”

“Jesus.” Harry lifted a hand to Severus’ face and stroked his cheek. “Severus….” He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his partner’s nose. “Love, I’m so sorry. And I promise you now that I will _never_ hit you. Never, even if you hurt me, not that I believe you would. I will keep you safe until I die, and I… I’m so sorry my stupid family hurt you so much.”

“I know. I trust you, Harry, and your family’s sins are not your fault.” Severus buried his face in Harry’s shoulder. “After that, I was foolish enough to approach Black in the Great Hall the next morning. I could not believe he hated me so. But he called me an obsessive stalker and outed me—my sexuality and my liking for feminine things—to the entire school. They… they made a fool of me. And I… I was so hurt, I blamed Lils—somehow, I thought it was _her_ fault, that she had turned him against me. Then, the next week, the event you saw in the pensieve occurred and….”

“And you lost your best friend, too.” Harry cradled Severus close against his chest. “Ssh. I don’t know why Mum couldn’t forgive you when she understood what had happened, but _I_ do. I think you had a right to be angry and upset, even if you did take it out on the wrong person. It’s okay now, love. If anyone dares to take the mickey out of you for what makes you happy, I’ll make sure they regret it before lunch.”

Severus chuckled softly. “No fighting in the corridors.”

“We’ll just have to take it somewhere else then,” said Harry with a wink.

Severus laughed and pulled Harry into his arms. “Thank you. I… I feel lighter, having told you.”

“I think you’ve been holding that back too long.” Harry sat back and gave him a smile. “Now, would you like me to put some of this on you?”

Severus hesitated. “You… you know how to apply makeup?”

A grin spread across Harry’s face. “Well, I reckon I’m not _great_ at it, not anything fancy anyway, but Hermione taught me the basics on the horcrux hunt. We didn’t have anything better to do and Hermione couldn’t do it to herself in the tent, and I found out that I liked making her up. It’s like painting a picture, only not as time-consuming. Now I do her whole face and Ginny’s besides. I could maybe do yours too, if you want me to.”

Severus gave him a tentative smile. “Very well. I place myself in your hands.”

“Oh.” Harry shivered, a thrill of desire shooting down his spine. “Careful with that, love. I’d like… well, let’s just say that inspired some… _interesting_ thoughts.”

Severus flushed. “Oh. Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive. We should probably let down the silencing charm now though, just in case.”

Severus nodded and released the magic. “There we are.”

Dumbledore said, “Severus, are you feeling better?”

Severus gave him a curt nod and turned his back on the portrait’s subsequent twinkle. “I am ready when you are, Harry.”

Harry tucked Severus’ hair out of his face. “Right. Then hold still. You want the black?” He twirled Severus’ eyeliner between his fingers.

“Yes. It is the only shade I have ever worn.”

“Hmm. Close your eyes, love.” Harry pulled out Severus’ eye pencil and traced around the contours of his left eye, dragging the edge out just a bit to give him a slight winged look. “I’m no expert, but with your colouring, I think you could pull off dark purple or blue too.”

“Truly? Perhaps I will try it next time.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see it.” Harry traced the other side, and brought out Severus’ mascara. “Look up. There you go.” He applied a couple of coats and put it away. “Lip gloss or something else?”

“Perhaps….” Severus handed Harry a pot of coral lip balm. It was mostly sheer, but it gave his lips a little extra colour without being too obvious.

“Ah, lovely.” Harry applied it carefully, a hot blush stealing across his face, and Severus kissed his fingers when he finished. “There you are, pet. Anything else?”

“I think this is enough for a trial.”

Harry nodded. “Want to put your hair back like at the dance?”

Severus flushed. “Oh. If you wish it.”

“Well, love, it’s for _you_. Do you want it back?”

“I… yes, I think I would. There is a clip….” Severus _Accioed_ a simple silver barrette from his quarters and handed it to Harry. “Would you do the honours?”

Harry grinned. “Of course, love.” After a bit of fussing, Harry had Severus’ hair pulled back in a soft half-back style, flowing behind his ears and revealing the shapely cheekbones his straight locks usually hid. “Oh, Sev. You look brilliant. See for yourself.”

Severus looked in the mirror Harry had conjured and caught his breath. Elegant fingers touched his cheek as he turned his head this way and that. “I do rather like it.”

“So do I.”

Severus caught Harry into a tight embrace. “Thank you—for accepting me, all of me.”

“Always, Severus.”

Severus had to blink hard to keep from smudging his eyeliner, but his smile glowed.

 

* * *

 

Severus went to breakfast on Harry’s side, his partner’s face a grim warning to anyone who dared speak out against Severus’ new look. A few whispers sounded around the hall, but his loyal supporters—Harry’s brand of Gryffindors, Luna and her friends, Draco, Blaise, and Daphne, and a few Hufflepuffs who looked up to him too—silenced them fast. Harry walked him to the head table, kissed Severus’ cheek, and pulled out his seat for him.

“I’ll see you later, Sev.”

Severus returned Harry’s kiss and farewell, and watched as the young man whispered something to Minerva.

She gave Harry a firm nod. “You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Harry brushed his fingers through the tips of Severus’ hair and went to his seat.

“I see the courtship is going well,” said Minerva as if she had noticed nothing out of the common.

Severus flushed slightly. “Yes, it is.”

“Have you chosen a date for the wedding?”

Severus coughed. “He is not allowed to propose until he graduates, Minerva.”

“Poppycock! He can propose, only you must maintain the rules of a formal courtship until graduation.”

Severus paused halfway through putting some rashers on his plate. “We may truly propose to one another?”

“Of course,” said Filius from his right. “It’s all part of the courtship.”

“I had thought it was the _end_ of the courtship.”

“No, Severus,” said Minerva. “The wedding night is the end of it.”

“Ah. You are… certain? Should I… make a misstep, I have no doubt my detractors would see me in Azkaban before the end of the week.”

“Well, if it troubles you so much,” said Filius, “you might always look up the laws and see for yourself, but my own wife was a student when I first started teaching here, and my proposal did not cause problems.” He gave a sad sigh. “Merlin, how I miss that woman.”

Severus gave him a sad smile. “I am sorry.”

“Not at all, Severus. I am glad to see you are so happy together. Go and read the rules, learn what is required of you, and surprise the boy with a proposal of your own.”

“Just remember to save the… _celebration_ for after graduation,” Minerva reminded him.

Severus nodded hesitantly. “I… yes, I will do. Thank you for your help.”

Minerva’s lips curved in a genuine smile. “You’re quite welcome. And I must say, when you do propose to him, make sure you wear your hair and face like that. You look quite dashing today.”

Severus’ cheeks burned. “I… I had feared… because it is not _typical_ for men….”

“Oh, tosh. Who cares? Wear what you want and be happy, Severus. You have certainly earned a little freedom, considering how long you’ve hidden everything of your true self away for all of our sakes.”

Severus’ heart lightened. “I… you are correct. I will keep that in mind.”

Minerva patted his shoulder and returned to her breakfast.

 

* * *

 

Severus paced the floor of his office, his heart racing and his hand shaking around the box in his pocket. The Easter Hols had come, and with fewer distractions to keep Severus busy at all hours of the day, he had _finally_ had time to check the laws concerning student/professor courtships and found Minerva and Filius had the right of it. And so, here he stood, dressed as Ophelia—he’d had to add pockets to his dress—clutching Harry’s engagement ring in trembling fingers, and wearing a hole in the carpet under a chandelier he had transfigured from a candle.

Ophelia had no doubts she wanted to spend the rest of her life beside Harry, but what if Harry hadn’t _meant_ his promise all those weeks ago? What if Harry had changed his mind? What if—

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She _knew_ Harry loved her—as both Ophelia and Severus. She had no reason to worry. She trusted Harry with her life— _and_ her heart. It would be all right.

A knock sounded at the door, and her heart thumped. “Harry?”

“Yeah, love. It’s me. Can I come in?”

She conjured a mirror and tucked a stray strand of hair back. “Y-yes.”

“Oh, you have your Ophelia voice on today. I’m exc—oh.” Harry stopped dead just inside the room and swallowed hard. “Merlin. Ophelia… gods, you’re….”

Nerves got the better of her, and she snapped out, “What?”

Harry gave her a soothing smile. “You’re gorgeous. Gods, it’s going to be tough to keep my hands to myself tonight.”

Her heart thumped. “You… I….”

“Take the compliment, love.” Harry moved into her arms and kissed her cheek. “I meant every word. You’re stunning.”

Ophelia dropped her head onto Harry’s shoulder and took a shaky breath. “I… it is… difficult to believe, when all my life I have heard the opposite, but thank you, beloved.”

Harry ran his arms down her shoulders, bare but for the off-the-shoulder sleeves of her dress—an iridescent violet ball gown. “This dress is lovely. And your hands look so pretty in these gloves.” He kissed the knuckles of Ophelia’s free hand and gave her a beatific smile. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, I think, to have a partner who looks so damn good as both a man and a woman.”

Ophelia flushed deeply. “I… do not feel I deserve such admiration, but I am relieved that you find me so attractive.”

Harry gave her a wry smile. “I feel so underdressed. You said to come in nice clothing, but I didn’t realise you meant _formal_.”

“You are perfect.” She kissed his forehead. “But I am capable of changing your robes if you would like me to.”

“Ah, yes, dress me up, like I do for you.”

She chuckled and flicked her wrist, and Harry’s simple green dress robes morphed into a sleek formal number with violet trim and gold buttons.

“Ooh, shame this won’t keep. That’s nice.”

“Mine is transfigured as well. We are always able to recreate this, if you enjoy the look.”

“I do. We match—it’s nice.” Harry placed Ophelia’s hand around his neck. “Dance with me, love? Like the first time I saw your lovely face?”

She flushed. “I… before we… I would like to….” She took a deep breath. “But I need to do this as my proper self.”

Another flick of her wand removed her glamours, revealing the man she was underneath. Severus shifted his dress into a robe much like Harry’s for ease of movement, though his makeup and half-back hairstyle remained.

“There.” Severus closed his eyes and fought down the flock of butterflies in his stomach. “I… these past few months with you, Harry, have been the happiest of my life. Since the day you rescued me from the shack and brought me home, you have never left my side. At least, not in spirit. And I… I find… I wish to never leave yours.” He clutched Harry’s hands and breathed in harshly. “I… I….”

Harry rubbed Severus’ palms. “Merlin, you’re _shaking_. What’s wrong, Sev? Are you okay?”

Severus gave him a terse nod. “I am… extremely nervous, but otherwise well. You see, love, I did some research while you visited the Burrow last weekend, and… well, it seems I am allowed to do… _this_.” He dropped to his knees and pulled the ring box from his pocket. “Harry James Potter, you are my entire world, and I wish to spend the rest of my life at your side. Will you marry me?”

Harry’s mouth fell open and tears glimmered in his eyes. “Sev, you’re sure we can—it won’t hurt you if I say yes?”

“On the contrary, Harry, you would make me the happiest person alive.”

Harry beamed and offered Severus his left hand. “Then _yes_! A thousand times, yes!”

Severus’ heart burst in an explosion of joy and wonder. “You… you _will_? Oh, thank Merlin!”

Harry dropped to his knees too and caught Severus into his arms. “Oh gods, I want to kiss you so much right now.” He buried his face in Severus’ shoulder and held him tight. “So happy. I… so much.”

Severus tucked Harry’s head under his chin and smiled at Albus’ portrait. _“He said yes!”_ He mouthed, and Albus gave him a thumbs up sign.

Harry lifted a face streaked with tears and pressed a kiss to Severus’ forehead. “I can’t wait to be your husband, love. And I _really_ want that dance now.”

Severus chuckled. “Let me just….” A few flicks of his wand, and he had become Ophelia again, dress and all. “There.” She stood and wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck. “Our first dance as an engaged couple. I am… thrilled to share it with you, my Harry.”

“So am I, my Prince—and Prin _cess_. So am I.”

Ophelia smiled, pressed her cheek against Harry’s hair, and swayed with him long into the night.

 

* * *

 

Harry came into Severus’ office, waving a parchment in his hand, an expression of glee crossing his face. “Sev! Look what Minerva did.”

Severus raised an eyebrow—sculpted now. “Minerva?”

“Well, she’s not my professor anymore, and she asked me to call her by her first name. Anyway, look!” Harry dashed to Severus’ side and dropped into his lap. Now that he wasn’t a student any longer, he could do. “I’ve officially graduated.”

Severus’ glossy lips gave him a mischievous smile. “Let me see that, Mister Potter. Just to make sure you’ve earned enough NEWTS….” He snatched the parchment from Harry.

“ _Sev_!” Harry laughed and poked his side playfully. “I did fine, thank you very much.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me see. O in Defence—no surprise there. An E for Potions, Herbology, and Transfiguration. Another O in Charms and Astronomy. And an OWL in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, both E’s as well. Well done, Harry.”

“Do I get a kiss as a reward?”

Severus chuckled and stroked his cheek. “Albus?”

Albus clapped his hands. “Well done, Harry. And yes, as you are no longer a student, you may kiss Severus all you want. Just remember to take it slow until the wedding day.” He stroked his beard. “When _is_ your wedding, by the way?”

Harry grinned. “Tomorrow! I didn’t want to wait.”

“Nor I.” Severus tipped Harry’s chin down. “Now, come here. I have been waiting far too long.”

“Will I mess up your makeup?”

“If you do, I can always reapply it.”

“Right, then that works for me.” With no further warning, Harry threw his arms around Severus’ neck and kissed him for all he was worth.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

This was what a kiss was _supposed_ to be. Merlin. He was melting, burning inside, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth.

Severus gave a soft mewl of pleasure and threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair. With a gasp, he pulled back and murmured, voice rough, “It was worth the wait.”

“Gods, yes.”

Harry claimed Severus’ lips again and didn’t stop kissing him until the bell rang for curfew.

“Tomorrow, love,” Harry whispered, his eyes bright with excitement.

“Tomorrow.”

“Are you going to wear a dress?”

Severus smirked. “You will have to wait and see, won’t you?”

Harry chuckled. “Not fair!”

“Life seldom is, my Harry, but you… when you came into my life, it was worth every unfair moment I have endured to keep you safe.”

Harry kissed Severus one last time and tore himself away from his warm arms. “I can’t wait.”

“Neither can I, but go, love. It is the last night we will ever spend apart. Go enjoy it with your friends, celebrate your grades, have fun. I will see you at breakfast.”

Harry kissed Severus’ forehead. “Spend this night with _your_ friends too, Sev. Minerva and Filius—he asked me to use his proper name too. Hagrid. Madam Pomfrey. Even Draco, Blaise, and Daphne. They all love you and want to share this moment with you.”

Severus blinked hard. “I….” He stood and kissed Harry once more. “I will.”

“Good. Until tomorrow, my love.”

“Until then.”

Heart bursting with love and anticipation, Harry bid his lover farewell and dashed back to the dorms.

 

* * *

 

Severus _had_ worn a gown to the wedding, though he chose not to appear as Ophelia for the sake of the bonds taking. The silky indigo number had made Harry’s eyes pop and his cheeks redden, and he hadn’t been able to resist giving Severus a kiss before the ceremony even started.

“ _Gods_ , you’re beautiful.”

The truly amazing thing was that Severus _felt_ it. With every eye in the crowd focused on him, all smiling and welcoming, even if he hadn’t worn traditional bonding robes and had worn full makeup. Hermione had even experimented a bit with contouring, and her careful shading had softened the angles of his sharp nose and brought out the high cheekbones Harry loved so much. With his hair back and lengthened, his nails painted with French tips, and his lithe body wrapped in miles of glorious blue silk, he had never felt more _alive_.

And Harry’s radiant smile, the adoration in his eyes—gods. Severus thought he might fly, no magic needed.

The ceremony passed in a rush of emotion and magic and love, and afterwards, Severus had shifted into Ophelia and spent the night dancing at Harry’s side.

But now, they were back at the castle, and Harry had just stepped through the door of Ophelia’s private quarters—their new home—for the first time. She stood back, trembling with the fear that Harry mightn’t like it and resisting the urge to bite her nails. Ginny had spent _hours_ getting them just right, and damned if Ophelia would ruin her handiwork due to a little worry.

“Princess, this is lovely.” Harry beamed at the entire room, taking in the soft colours and understated style.

“That is… good?”

“Of course.” He ran his fingers down the sofa, smiling at the simple cream colour with a muted floral throw. “There are some feminine touches too, but they don’t overpower either. It’s perfect for you, I think.”

Ophelia swallowed hard. “And for you?”

“I love it.” Harry opened his arms. “Come here, my love. I want to carry you over our threshold.”

“But… I am heavier.”

“Featherlight charms _do_ exist.”

Ophelia gave a wry laugh. “Forgive me. I am… I suppose I am rather nervous.”

“Don’t be, love.” Harry flicked a Featherlight charm at his wife—husband—and lifted her into his arms. “There, see? I can bear you.”

Ophelia wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled as Harry carried her into their bedroom. He set her down upon the bed with a gentle kiss.

“May I undress you, Princess?”

Ophelia shivered. She liked hearing that name—at least when she dressed as a female. “I… yes.”

Harry unwrapped her body with exquisite care and groaned as his wife lay bare before him. “Dear gods. You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down and suckled one of her breasts, teasing her nipple, and Ophelia arched into the touch with a cry of pleasure.

“Harry!”

He flicked his tongue around the nub, and Ophelia gasped and clutched his hair.

“Oh… oh please.”

With a soft moan, he switched to the other side, tracing his tongue first around the curve of her breast in smaller and smaller circles until he reached his prize. At the same time, a gentle hand reached between her legs and stroked the hard erection jutting from her hips.

“Ah!” Lightning and water coiled within her, and Ophelia let slip a sharp cry. “Harry!”

He took her into a fierce kiss, branding her with fire and love.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “I love hearing the sounds you make.”

“Mm, ah. Harry.”

“Yes.” Harry released her and stepped back, removing his clothing hurriedly and casting them aside. A year of good food and exercise had given Harry a strong figure. Lithe and slender, but agile, and his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and heavy erection pronounced him very much a man. Ophelia traced her fingernails through Harry’s chest hair and breathed in harshly, inhaling his masculine scent—rain, musk, pine trees in the summer sun.

“Merlin, Harry. You are incredible.”

Harry grinned sheepishly and clambered into bed beside her. “I’m glad you like it.” He traced her face lightly. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

A flash of worry and insecurity flickered in Ophelia’s heart. Harry loved her, she knew he did, but did he prefer Ophelia over Severus? Severus enjoyed wearing makeup and lingerie from time to time, and he did like dressing as Ophelia on occasion, but for the most part, he preferred his natural state. He had gained skill with his cosmetics—he had learned how to make a look that softened his features without being too overtly feminine, though he liked eyeliner and mascara too, and he preferred that look to dressing as a full female.

Did Harry want the woman more than the man?

“Ophelia?”

She flinched. As much as she liked that name, it wasn’t _his_.

“Hey, love, what’s wrong?” Harry lay beside her and caught her into his arms. “It’s okay, angel. If you’re scared, we don’t have to do anything.”

She shivered. “It is only… as much as I enjoy this form, Harry, it is only a mask. I… I wish you to… am _I_ enough? As your husband?”

Harry’s eyes softened. “Change, Severus. Drop your glamours. No barriers, no masks, nothing but you.”

She frowned. “Yes, but….” An idea flickered to life in her mind. To hell with this insecurity. She would show Harry that Severus could be just as sexy in his own skin.

“Wait there.”

Harry gave her a bemused look. “Okay, love. Whatever you need.”

She kissed his forehead and dashed into the loo. Once out of sight, she dropped most of her glamours and became Severus again. He left his hair long and sleek because he liked it—he was growing it out anyway—but removed every other magical alteration to his body. Then, he reached into the depths of his mind for the look he wanted….

 

* * *

 

Harry waited, confused, as Severus cast spells on himself in the loo. What in Merlin’s name was he up to? Had Harry made him feel bad about himself somehow? He couldn’t _think_ of anything he might have said to hurt Sev, but then, maybe he just didn’t remember.

“Love, are you all right?”

The door opened a crack, and Severus murmured, “I am. Are you ready for me?”

At the sound of his tone, Harry’s desire sprung back to life. “Merlin, yes. Come to me, Severus.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Harry clutched the sheets. Damn, Severus’ voice could melt _steel_. It had certainly turned Harry into a molten puddle of goo.

Then, Severus poked his foot out of the loo, revealing a leg encased in black leather and accentuated with high heels, and Harry forgot to breathe. With a strangled squeak, he tracked his eyes up the length of Severus’ shapely leg, covered in leather to his mid-thigh. _Fuck_. He gulped and followed the top of Severus’ bare thigh up to the edge of black satin, cut high on his hip and laced at the sides.

“Holy mother of Merlin,” Harry gasped.

With a low laugh, Severus stepped out of the loo the rest of the way, revealing his full costume, and Harry cursed. Besides those glorious boots—fucking _hell_ , Severus had best keep those—a black satin and lace teddy hugged the curves of his body in all the right places. The long sleeves with bell-like cuffs put Harry in mind of his teaching robes, but there was nothing professional about _this_ outfit. His nipples peeked out of the top edge of his bodice and his bum out of the bottom, and his long hair swept over his shoulders and back, and _holy sweet Jesus,_ Harry was _melting_.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed. “Severus… gods _damn_.”

Severus’ red-painted lips twitched into a smirk. “Do you approve?”

Harry ran to him and grabbed him into a fierce kiss. “So fucking sexy.” He traced his thumb around one of those tantalising brown nipples and drew a gasp from his husband. “Keep this outfit, _please_. Hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Severus moaned and melted into Harry’s touch. “Your mouth… mm… does get rather dirty when you are amorous.”

Harry gave him a wicked grin. “I’ve barely started, love. _Plumapondus_!”

Severus shivered at the odd, floating sensation of the Featherlight charm and gasped as Harry hauled him up bodily and pressed him against the wall, legs wrapped around his husband’s waist and booted heels pressing into his arse cheeks. Severus tipped his head back, revealing his slim throat and silvery scars, and Harry attacked them like he’d wanted to all bloody year, familiarising his tongue with every bump and crevice, every curve, seeking out the places that made Severus cry out and clutch at his shoulders.

“H-Harry!”

“Mm.” He rocked his naked erection against his husband’s, clothed in black silk, and Severus gave a mewling cry.

“Oh, oh. Please.”

“Gods, you’re vocal.”

Severus winced. “I… I will try to be quieter.”

Harry jerked back with a glare. “Don’t you _dare_. Vocal is a good thing. I _want_ to hear your voice. I want to know what you sound like when you’re mad with pleasure. Let me hear you, love. Don’t be afraid.”

At Severus’ timid nod, Harry let his husband down from the wall and cradled his face in gentle hands. “Severus, look at me.”

Dark, uncertain eyes flickered up to meet his own.

“I love you.” Harry kissed him softly. “I adore you. Your voice, your body—whether yours or Ophelia’s—your hair, the way you taste, the way you look with your makeup a little smudged from snogging me for hours. The scent of you when you’re hot and sweaty, or busy in the lab, or lounging in my arms. I love everything about you. Don’t be afraid to show me who you are, Severus. I’m not going to turn you away, now or ever. You’re _mine_ , do you hear me? I’m never letting you go.”

Severus shivered, warmth and desire kindling in his gaze. “I do love you when you are possessive.”

Harry smirked. “Only then?”

Severus chuckled, but his mirth faded fast. “Always. I have always loved you, in one fashion or another. And now, you have all of me in a way no one else has ever done.” He murmured in Harry’s ear, voice low and rough, “I am at your mercy, my love. What will you do with me?”

“Fucking hell,” Harry breathed and grabbed Severus into a frenzied kiss.

 

* * *

 

Severus lay on the sheets, his teddy discarded—though Harry apparently had no intention of removing his boots—and thrashed under a sensual assault of unfiltered bliss. Harry had worked his way down Severus’ body from the tips of his fingers, to his mouth, and down his chest to his hips, and his hot, fiery kisses in the crease of his thigh left him quaking and crying out for more.

Harry had tormented him for over an hour, savouring Severus’ body like a sweet treat. They had time—all the time in the world to play, and Severus wanted to let Harry explore him as he wished.

Still, a man had limits.

“Harry… stop… _teasing_!”

Harry chuckled darkly and ran his tongue along the top of Severus’ inner thigh. “You want more, angel?”

“ _Gods_ , yes.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Fiery heat engulfed Severus’ erection, and Severus arched up with a sharp cry. “ _Harry_!”

“Yes,” Harry whispered against Severus’ oversensitive tip. “Love to hear you gone like this.”

Harry sucked him inside once more, and Severus made a sound that could barely be classified as human. He grabbed the sheets and whimpered, desperately fighting the urge to thrust, to claim that sweet mouth for his own. Harry wasn’t ready for that.

“G-go-gods!”

Harry toyed with his tip, sucked as much as he could bear, teased him with his tongue, until Severus was crying out with every stroke and thrashing like mad.

“Harry, _fuck_. I can’t take anymore.”

Harry leaned back, eyes dilated, lips red and wet. “Sev, um… how do you want to do this?”

Severus paused. “Do you know what you are doing, love?”

“Er, I’ve read books, but I’ve never….”

“Then perhaps it is best that I take control this time. I will show you what to do, so the next time we make love, you may take me.”

Harry whimpered and released a sharp breath against Severus’ stomach. “Yeah, please.”

“Come. Lie beside me.”

Harry obeyed, and Severus took him into a fierce kiss, loving the taste of himself on Harry’s tongue. Severus hooked his leg over Harry’s—still in his boots. Apparently Harry had a fetish, but Severus didn’t mind, even if leather _did_ tend to chafe. They were wizards, after all, and charms were a wonderful thing.

He pinned Harry by his hands and whispered in his ear. “You have brought me to the brink of madness.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Yeah?”

“And now, I shall return the favour.”

“Oh _gods_!”

With a dark laugh, Severus latched onto Harry’s neck and Summoned his favourite lubricant. While he kept Harry distracted with fierce kisses and slow strokes of his straining shaft, Severus coated two of his fingers in the slick substance and traced the rim of Harry’s opening.

“You are sure, pet?”

Harry groaned and pushed down, taking Severus’ fingertip inside him. “Take me. And be quick about it. I don’t have your endurance yet.”

Severus chuckled and set about preparing him in earnest. When he had Harry crying out and pleading for him on every stroke, he removed his fingers and slowly entered his husband. Harry gave a whine of pleasure and tried to push down.

“ _Slowly_ , pet,” Severus chided. “I will injure you if you move too soon. You must wait for… ah. For that. For your body to… ah, relax.” He moved a little deeper, pausing at the feel of Harry shivering around him. “Are you well?”

“Feels so damn _good_. Move, Sev! I’m not going to break.”

Severus groaned and gave an experimental thrust, slow and gentle. Harry arched his back, a moan low in his throat, and grabbed the edge of the headboard.

“Gods, _yes_ ,” Harry panted. “More, angel. Let me feel you move inside me.”

Severus tugged Harry into him, sitting up and settling Harry astride his thighs. Harry wrapped his strong arms around Severus’ neck, his muscular legs around his waist, and used the pressure of his thighs against Severus’ hips to push himself upwards and sink down again. With a gasp, Severus clutched Harry’s hips and slowed his rhythm.

“Gently, love.” He brought his husband into a fiery kiss. “I want this to be loving with you. Always loving.”

Harry nuzzled Severus’ forehead. “It _is_ loving, Sev, whether we go slow or fast.”

“Perhaps you are right, but I still wish to go slowly for our first time together.”

“Ugh, as long as you keep going!”

Severus gave a dark laugh and lifted Harry bodily, his movements slow and measured. Harry arched his neck as Severus slid back in and cursed.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Severus couldn’t help but move a little faster at Harry’s declaration. Harry gave him a wicked smirk, but did not take advantage of his new knowledge. Instead, he slipped his hand into Severus’ hair, clinging tight to his neck with the other, and kissed him soundly. A soft moan rose between them—Severus had no idea if he had made the sound or not—and Harry clung to Severus tighter.

“Please,” he whispered against Severus’ lips. “Love you so much. Want to feel… ah.”

But Severus had no intention of relenting until Harry was mad with ecstasy. He lifted Harry on and off of him with exquisite tenderness, taking his time to enjoy the feel of his husband’s body around him. And gods, watching Harry fall apart piece by piece in his arms was the most arousing experience of his life.

He wanted to treasure this moment, to capture each detail in his memory to cherish forever. The sheen of sweat on Harry’s skin, his fluffy hair wild and damp with pleasure, his green eyes wide and dilated, pink lips parted and pleading. The sound of his voice, growing more strained with every thrust and his breathless pants between each cry. The feel of his body, so strong and hard, yet pliant in Severus’ arms, yielding to his desires. The silken glide of his canal and the heat driving Severus closer and closer to the edge of his self-control. The musk of their pleasure, mingling with the scents of their shampoo and the clean linens beneath them—gods, he loved every detail. Severus locked everything away in his heart to remember always.

“Sev,” Harry begged, “enough teasing. I _need_ you. Please.”

Severus swung Harry close. “You want me hard and fast?”

“Sweet Merlin, yes!”

“As you wish, my love.”

Gods help him, Severus couldn’t hold back much longer anyway. With a groan, Severus laid Harry back so he might have more control and eased back inside, rocking in shallow thrusts.

“I love you,” he breathed. “You are my world.”

Harry blinked tears down his cheeks, but he was smiling. “Yeah. You’re mine too, love. But I’m dying here. Need to—please, Sev. Please.”

Severus pinned Harry’s hands to the bed, gave one more slow thrust and paused above him. “You will tell me if it hurts?”

“ _Sev_! You know I will. Just bend me over and fuck me already!”

Severus chuckled against Harry’s forehead. “I will never simply _fuck_ you, Harry. With you, it will always be making love.”

Harry groaned. “Just make it faster, please?”

“Mhn, my pleasure.”

With a low cry, Severus slammed into his husband and made fierce love to him, keeping his hands pinned and his lips occupied.

“ _Merlin_ , yes!”

Harry arched up to meet every thrust, gabbling pleas for more and cries of Severus’ name when he had the breath. Every sound, every movement pushed Severus closer to the edge of bliss. Breathless pleas escaped him, too— _love you, never leave me, mine always_ —and Harry answered each one, setting Severus’ heart soaring— _Love you too, want to be with you, always yours._

Tears streaked Severus’ cheeks as he climbed the peak to ecstasy, but he had long-since stopped caring. Gods, he had never imagined this could be his. He had never dreamed he would find someone to care for all his faces, especially someone as brilliant and wonderful as Harry, but Harry reminded him with every breath that he loved him.

“Sev—oh gods. _Please_.”

Severus took pity on him and stroked Harry’s shaft in time with his thrusts. “Love you,” he whispered. “Want you forever.”

“Yeah, love you too. Always—oh, _Severus_!”

Harry pulled Severus into a desperate kiss, rocking frantically against him and driving Severus mad with pleasure. Each cry, each tiny breath against his ear, his throat, his lips sent him spiralling into heights of ecstasy he had never dreamed possible.

“S-Sev’rus!”

A stuttered cry of his name and a sudden tension along Harry’s body made Severus shout his husband’s name. At a splash of heat against his belly and the clenching around his erection, Severus followed Harry into ecstasy. Waves of heat and sweet relief washed over him, and Severus slumped, exhausted, into Harry’s arms.

“Gods,” Severus panted into his husband’s throat. “I… I never dreamed….”

“I know,” Harry gasped out. “I’m— _damn_ , that was amazing.” He eased his hips back, releasing Severus, and rolled them onto their sides. “You better never leave me after that. You’re incredible.”

Severus huffed a laugh into Harry’s hair. “For more than my prowess in bed, I hope.”

“For everything,” Harry said, voice low and serious. “I love you, Sev.”

“I love you too, pet.”

“Mm. Love Ophelia too. Next time, can I make love to you as her?”

Severus gasped at a surge of desire down his spent shaft. “Oh, yes, I think I should like that. For now, though, we should sleep.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, my husband. And my wife.”

Severus chuckled softly and held Harry close. “Goodnight, my Harry.”

“Always yours.”

Severus sent a cleaning spell over them, pulled the blankets up to their shoulders, and held Harry close within his arms. As pleasant lassitude pulled him towards sleep, he smiled. Whatever troubles awaited him over the horizon, he knew he would survive with Harry at his side. He was _home_ , at last.

And so was Ophelia.

_~Fin~_


	2. Love at First Sight

## Ophelia at the Ball

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